Vanilla Flower
by Prewritesuccession
Summary: Ember Maxwell has always been a nice girl. Then after an accident, her mother is dead and she is now the foster child of a Japanese family. Out of her three new siblings, Niou is her, to be kind, least favorite. She deals with new school and tennis drama while still reminiscing about her mother's death. Rated T for some deeper themes. OC x Yukimura
1. A Nightshade's Agony

I've always been a nice, patient girl. I seldom snap or nip or ignore when I'm annoyed (which isn't very often). Some people tell me that this is a gift, but sometimes I'm not always too sure. Maybe I take things too far sometimes. Mom always called me her "wall flower" because I was quiet and neutral (Switzerland would be her second choice). Plus, we owned a natural growth store and flowers were kind of my 'thing.' But sometimes, she'd just call me trouble.

For example, when I was in first grade, Mary Bennet asked if she could glue crayons to my hair to which I had happily obliged.

"Why didn't you tell her _not_ to?" my mother had exclaimed as she pulled lightly on my locks of hair, examining the colors with wide eyes.

"Because," I had responded happily. "Mary doesn't have many friends." Periwinkle was pulled hard out of my head along with a lock of my light hair. After that Mom had given me a pixie-cut.

Then, more recently, in sixth grade, Sally Baker was one crime away from expulsion. She was always nice to _me _and didn't get into the violent types of trouble, like picking fights; just...um...things like vandalism and such. Then despite warnings from her parents, the principal, and lastly, me, after school she took a jar of moldy peanut butter and hurled it through the window of the principal's car. I was the only witness. Sally was going to be expelled. So what could I do?

In the end, I was accused of 'disrespectful behavior' and set out into the strange world of sixth grade delinquent. In other words, I got expelled. I didn't know that that very summer I would be orphaned, alone, and shipped across the ocean to live with a foster family. It was a long time ago. But what Mom had loved had eventually killed her. _Flowers _had killed her.

But back to my new 'family.' I was their first 'foreign child.' Does that really sound as twisted out loud as it does on paper? Nonetheless, I now have three new siblings. And I'm not really sure how I feel about that. That was two years ago but 'Mom' and 'Dad' and 'sister' and 'brothers' are still the strangest words I've ever uttered in all of my fourteen years.

Today I'm attending school with my 'older brother' Niou. To be kind, he's not my favorite sibling. Older sister Kim is in university studying off in Europe. Little brother Akira is five and just about the sweetest, most annoying little boy ever. If you ever had younger a sibling, you know what I'm talking about. Then there was..._Niou_. Oh, he was nice enough, smiling (smirking) at me and giving me gifts (a baby bird found inside my shoe). How he even _got _a baby bird, I don't know. All I knew was that I thought it was a rat, and that it left a baby bird-sized waste pile inside my sneakers.

Even here, my expulsion streak lasted through a few public schools until my 'parents' finally sat down and had an uncomfortable discussion with their adoptive foreign child. I'd been here for two years, but it still felt like we were all just strangers, not family. They said I'd go and try for private school. _Niou_'s private school. Also known as Rikkaidai. My 'family' also told me, in short, to stop sticking my nose into other people's businesses and stop getting in trouble. Trouble? No, silly 'family.' This was _help_.

Emily Dickinson once wrote:

"_If I can stop one heart from breaking, _

_I shall not live in vain; _

_If I can ease one life the aching, _

_Or cool one pain, _

_Or help one fainting robin _

_Up to his nest again, _

_I shall not live in vain."_

I had always made it my duty to help people; to bring them to their feet, to help them gain confidence or even to reform. I loved people. Others were a part of me. How could I change _myself_? It was _who I am. _People filled my heart. But I just nodded for my 'parents' and put my head down in shame like a good girl.

They seemed happy to get through to their foreign stranger of a daughter. Niou took me to school the next day, making me chase him around each bend and corner of our neighborhood before ending up in front of a giant school. I puffed, clutching my side and watched my 'brother' strut happily to a group of his friends.

_Rikkaidai._

Boys and girls rushed through the main double doors, all in the uniforms.

"_Individuality is everything_," 'Mom' had told me this morning, brushing my long hair into a giant French braid. She had left for work. I had let my hair go loose, and now it hung wavy down to my stomach. I let it hang over my face to hide my eyes. People say eyes are the windows to your soul. I say having a staring match with a random stranger is just plain uncomfortable. I picked up my time schedule at the main office and spent a few minutes wandering the halls, looking for 2-D #6. I wasn't _trying _to be late for my first class, but I didn't try to hurry, either. I didn't want to disrupt anyone's classes to ask for directions either. That would just be an extra burden and distraction to the rest of my fellow students.

As I rounded a corner I was vaguely confident that my classroom would be in, I rammed head-first into a wall. My first thought was, _why on earth did this school build a wall around one of the corners? _My second thought was, _and why does this wall wear one of those Rikkaidai uniforms? _

Gradually as I rubbed my head, two and two came together. The 'wall' I had just run into was a boy, on the ground and rubbing his nose where I had bumped him. Messy locks of black hair grew casually over his head and one green eye was pinched closed in pain. Miraculously I hadn't fallen down, so I dropped my books and knelt down beside the poor guy. Brushing the loose blonde strands out of my face, I watched his features intently, my black eyes wide.

"Are you _alright_?" I anxiously asked, wondering if I would be accused of 'physical violence' my first day here. Because that would be just plain awful. The boy wrinkled his nose a few times then blinked once at me, then twice, and three times. I hurriedly gathered up his fallen backpack and pencils scattered all around the floor, arranging them into a little pile next to him. _Did I have to be so clumsy? _I chastened myself. _I probably broke his nose. _

I suddenly realized how he was watching me. Gently leaning forward, I inconspicuously let my blonde hair cover my eyes again. I didn't need more than one pair of eyes to know me.

"Are you alright?" I repeated quieter. The guy touched his nose again and smirked at me. He stood up and slung his pack leisurely across his shoulder and looked down at me like _you coming? _He stuck out a hand whether to help me up or to shake, I don't know. In the end, I let him help me up.

"I'm Kirihara Akaya," he said with a wink in his smile. "And who might you be?"

"I _might _be Ember Maxwell who has her first day here and already almost broke someone's nose," I joked. Looking around, I bent and picked up my dropped time schedule. Kirihara bent over, looking at my schedule. Then he smirked again.

"2-D #6, eh?" I nodded, then wondered if I should ask him where my classroom was. I mean, we were both already late, right? But before I could ask, Kirihara started talking again. "I know where that class is," he said with another smile. He started walking off before I could say another word. We walked a few more hallways until stopping outside a door with a small silver card labeled **2-D #6**.

"Here we are," Kirihara said with a happy smile. "After you." I pulled the door open. Everyone turned their heads, watching as Kirihara and I hesitantly entered. Well, _I _hesitantly entered. Kirihara had a gait that looked more like strutting. The teacher stood from her desk and shot Kirihara a weary look.

"Akaya," she said in a dreary voice, "you are late." Her blue eyes looked very tired. "_Again._" Kirihara casually ruffled his hair and chuckled.

"Aww, sensei." He gestured at me. "I was just helping our new student to class." I nodded even though I knew he was already late when I met him at the hallway corner. But whatever. Kirihara would've been counted late. And somehow, I could tell this wasn't the first time. The teacher shot me a wary look but ended up giving instead a little smile.

"Kirihara's quite the handful." She chuckled and shooed Kirihara away to his desk where he leisurely swung his backpack over the chair and probably would have put his feet up on his desk if he was allowed.

"Why don't you introduce yourself to everyone," sensei told me with a smile. I shouldered my pack and smiled at everyone. I'm not one to get stage fright or be intimidated easily. However, I _do _want people to like me. So I tried to make eye contact with as many people as I could even though some people's looks were bored. One girl even gave me a hostile look. I shook it off and decided I would be nice to her. Hostility could be easily overcome by compliments and face-to-face friendly chatter.

"Hi," I sang. "I'm Ember and I'm from America. I have three foster siblings and love to garden and raise flowers and spices." Smiling, I tried to seem as sweet and unassuming as possible. "I enjoy playing the cello, tennis, and writing. I'm fluent in Japanese, Greek, English, and German." Just as I was going to say more, my teacher stood, cutting me off.

"Alright, thank you." She scanned the room and pointed at an empty seat next to Kirihara and just a few seats away from the girl with the stink-eye. I nodded, still smiling and bowed at my sensei and for my class.

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to meeting everyone." The girl in the back snorted loudly and started whispering with the circle of her friends sitting around her. I caught the words "annoying" and "way too peppy." I shrugged. Like I said before, I would have to be very kind to her and her friends. As I sat down, I made a mental note to converse with her later.

My classes were rather easy. I even had to correct senpai during English, when our teacher accidentally said that 'is' was always a helping verb. Technically, it may also be a linking verb. Stink-eyed girl had steam coming out of her ears. Then to my surprise, halfway through science, a folded-up note landed on my desk. It was signed "Anemi." Looking up, the girl with the stink-eye gave me a wide grin and a tiny smile. She mouthed two words. _Open it. _

I smiled back and unfolded the note. In neat, bubbly kanji was:

**Like flowers? Rikkaidai has a rooftop garden. Feel free to go up there at lunch: be sure to visit the second tier. Enjoy!**

_A rooftop garden? _I shrugged and grinned. It seemed that Anemi was gradually opening up to me. After class when everyone went out into the cafeteria to eat with their friends, I took only my lunch bag and wandered up a few flights of service stairs until opening a door and walking straight into a pool of watery sunlight. Squinting against the sun, I shielded my eyes and stumbled onto the roof. As my eyes adjusted, I twirled in a circle and gasped.

Out in front of me was a beautiful, well-kept garden with a small, raised, circular platform in the center. Azaleas and violets and geraniums and cornflowers grew neatly around the raised tier in uniform distance. A small system of irrigation pipes snaked lovingly around the plant plots. Little cobblestone paths winded around the plots, converging at my feet, allowing me a dozen different paths to travel to. But Anemi had said the second tier. So I gently slipped up the steps and admired all the other plants growing across this amazing garden. The second circle tier was like a wheel, flowers growing in wedges with small paths between each. The paths met in a small dais with tiny ivy winding in meticulous pattern around the arched shelter.

I examined each of the bulbs and leaves of the plants, trying to identify each one. There was oleander, belladonna, Scotch Brooms, foxglove, hemlock, and primrose. I happily examined each plant, all of them so lovingly planted and cultivated. They were amazing. But something felt so off...

I bent down over a small patch of delicate yellow flowers, cupping the blossoms without touch. They were slightly poisonous, yet had many uses in medicine. I had trouble growing these in our garden back in the U.S. because of all the slugs in our backyard. Here in Japan my 'parents' had seen my love for growing and gave me the whole backyard to work with. Even after carefully clearing a high place for these challenging plants, the soil was too dry or the water too wet and the blooms would rot and die.

Gently examining the rusty leaves, I admired the grower's handiwork. It was so lovely. All of this. I molded my hands around the moving blossoms to block the wind so I could examine the petals closer.

"_Stop!_" someone cried. I looked up to see Niou, Kirihara, Anemi, and a few other boys come running at me. A boy with blue hair that rose just above his shoulders slid down beside me and took my fingers away from the yellow flowers.

"Don't touch those," he said a little more gently this time. "Those are..."

"Pheasant's Eye," I said gently, pulling my hands away from his grasp, still staring at the lovely pattern of veins on the yellow petals. But they had just lost their shine. So I sighed and looked up at the boy and everyone else standing out of breath behind him. I didn't care that Niou could embarrass me at any given moment. This garden was too lovely to feel bad in. "This is a lovely flower," I sighed, turning my eyes back to the magic of the small flowers. "Adonis vernalis," I told them dreamily. "Named after the Greek story of Adonis. Each flower was said to signify one drop of his blood." I turned back to him and laughed.

"Of course, these are yellow." Cupping the blossoms again, I made sure the bud was far away from my skin. "Each part contains poisonous toxins that if ingested, could lead to cardiac arrest." Smiling lightly, I wondered for a moment if they thought I was the psychotic nature-lady I sounded like. Like I was that maid in the murder mysteries who spends her break time slowly picking out apple seeds to one day slip into my master's afternoon tea. Death by cyanide.

Niou chuckled and everyone turned to look at him. "She's just crazy." I smiled like I knew it was true. "Just because I overwatered her plants." Niou laughed again and I stopped smiling. _Niou sabotaged my plants? _I shook it off. Niou was..._Niou_. That was just who he was. But why did he have to pick on _me_?

He started talking again, shoulders now shaking with his laughter. "You should've seen her. She measured her water. Ember _measured _it." I blinked. So I measure my water samples. Being precise isn't a crime. Niou started again. "Ember was so confused when her little plants all died," he snickered and to my surprise, Anemi also giggled. "And, and then," Niou cried between bursts of laughter. "She actually went and tried to cultivate the seeds, then put them under that stupid microscope," he actually had to _stop _to have a fit. "And then, she said these seeds were strange and replanted them, and I over-watered them _again_!" I smiled at him but my eye still twitched.

"Oh, Niou," I said, trying to keep my voice level, despite my growing frustration. "those are things I enjoy doing." Giving him my most pleasant eye, I continued. "Besides, what I do never brings irk or frustrations from other people."

His eyes flashed with amusement. "At least _I _haven't been expelled from, oh..." Niou looked up at the sky and counted on his fingers all the public schools I've been kicked out of. He was at six before shooting me a glittering smile. "And, as soon as I tell our headmaster how you came up to touch Yukimura's poisonous plants," my face paled as I realized where this was going. And his _poisonous _plants? I realized _that _was what seemed off. Oleander, belladonna, Scotch Brooms, foxglove, hemlock, primrose, Pheasant's Eye...all poisonous plants. Niou leaned closer. "Then the number will be _seven_."

Anemi and Niou happily left me there, kneeling on the ground. For the first time in a long time, I was at a loss of optimism. What if they put me up for adoption again? I thought I would like Rikkaidai. Turning away from everyone else, I stood again and kept examining plants like Niou's words hadn't fazed me. After two years, I thought Niou was just full of silly pranks and bad jokes. So did he really hate me this much?

I paused at a few white flowers with tiny, upside-down, bell flowers and collapsed on my knees. Lily of the Valley was probably one of my favorite poisonous flowers. Yukimura truly was amazing to plant and cultivate all of these plants. But making a whole floor for poisonous flowers? Creative and beautiful, but I don't think the roof of a Japanese _middle school _wasn't the best place to grow _rhododendrons_ or _Jimson Weed. _Perhaps beauty was poison here, yet still, beauty is still beauty. A voice behind me startled me out of my thoughts.

"Are you...Niou's _sister_?" I turned around and stood. It was the boy with blue hair and gentle eyes. I nodded and gave a small laugh.

"Yeah. Foster sister." He nodded and smiled. I noted everyone else but we were gone. Then the boy smiled and held out a hand.

"I want to show you my favorite plant." I hesitated, but only for a minute before taking it. The boy led me across the garden to a row of flowering trees. But I only had eyes for the one in the middle. The trunk stretched up to about five feet high. Large simple, dentate leaves spread across the canopy. Large, trumpet-like flowers bloomed lovingly upside-down in elegant pattern. I gasped and squeezed his hand, pulling him back. He looked at me and smiled with his purple eyes.

"Th-that's," I sputtered. He gazed almost lovingly at the tree.

"Angel's Trumpet." The boy smiled then started to notice how white I looked. I paled again and held onto his arm for support. I felt myself start to whisper again. My body does things subconsciously. Some people bite their nails, chew their lip, or even mumble to themselves. I whisper things I know are true from books. It's like if I say all these facts, real life will suddenly make sense.

"Angel's Trumpet," I breathed, "named after the fragrant yellow, pink, orange, green, or red blossoms. They are grown in moist, fertile soil. Usually pollinated by moths, seeds and leaves are especially dangerous and can result in death." I swallowed hard and felt my voice break. "Easily spread by wind." I tried to move, yet it felt the perfume of the trumpet flowers intoxicate me. Feeling myself sway, I let myself be held up by the gentle-eyed boy. He carefully guided me to the center of the tier, sitting me down lightly on the dais on a bench under a small arch of lattice and ivy. I closed my eyes.

"You don't like it?" The boy asked kindly. I shook my head and gave him a watery smile.

"It's absolutely lovely," I told him, then looked at my fingers. "It's just that...I..." He gently took my other hand and I realized he had never let go of the first. He was so kind and gentle. And I didn't even know his name.

"Look," the boy said quietly. I realized I was crying. Trumpet flowers and beauty and poison. Weren't they all just the same thing, though? "Look," he continued tenderly. "If you don't want to talk about it, then that's fine." I nodded and looked at the ground. A leaf from the ivy fell to my feet and I identified it like Mom had taught me to. It had a petiole, or stalk, had a simple leaf, was sinuate, had hastate shapes, and palmate leaf veins.

Some people connect a bad memory to a certain activity, hobby, or action. Like after my Mom died, some people asked me if I hated botany and flowers. But instead of leeching my fury out on a silly little hobby, I decided this was in the past. Botany wasn't to blame. We were careless. Yet I didn't blame her or even myself. I still loved my flowers. Only Angel's Trumpet still killed me inside.

"They are amazing and beautiful," I said, wiping my cheeks on the sleeve of my blazer. "It's just that Angel's Trumpets are..." I stopped and remembered how he had said if I didn't want to talk about it then I didn't have to. So instead, I smiled again and pulled out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Ember. What's your name?" But before he could answer, I heard a loud click echo across the rooftop garden and a sharp blast connected hard against the back of my head. It didn't knock me unconscious right away, but I jutted forward with a heavy heave and felt myself fall, my head resting on the boy's shoulder. There was a numbness that steadily grew, tingling across my neck. But before I could pass out, I gripped his fingers.

"What's your name?" I lilted, head still on his shoulder. I blinked my throbbing eyes. He responded with a worried 'Yukimura.'

"Yukimura," I whispered. Then, clenching his hands, I tried to lift my head, but failed. "Yukimura...beware of Niou's..." Closing my eyes in pain, I breathed heavily past the building heaviness in my skull. "Beware of Niou's..._potato gun_." Things turned black like if you ran into a lightless cave at 60 miles per hour.

_Too, too dark. _

And in the midst of my coming darkness there was Niou's echoing laugh.


	2. A Geranium's Memory

Was pleasing others one of my life goals? Yes. Was I obliged to treat everyone with unbiased kindness? Of course. Did I have to like them? Hard to say. So did I love my brother? I'll answer a question with a question. Did a mother favor any of her children over her others? I'd hope not.

I woke up in the nurse's wing. Pale, pastel curtains surrounded the low bed I lay on. Trying to lift my head, I grimaced and fell back down. I blinked and saw bright spots pop like fireworks over the white ceiling. Everything spun like a carnival ride and I even heard the faint tune of calliope music coming from all directions. I breathed deep and waited for my head to stop throbbing.

When things stopped blurring so much, I decided not to try and get up again, so I painted pictures in the squiggles on the roof. I found the mutilated yet unmistakable form of a wild orchid. I smiled and traced the fields of cornflowers with my eyes. Then, on the top of a small mound right above my head was a tree, frozen with large leaves and long flowers that resembled trumpets. I sat up with a jolt and screamed out of fear and pain.

Seconds later hurried footsteps rushed and the nurse ripped the curtain open. Niou, Yukimura, and Anemi were with her, wide-eyed. I breathed heavily and gripped the paper sheet I was laying on. The nurse whipped out her thermometer, stuck it into my mouth, smacked on a blood pressure reader, and pulled out a stop-watch in under five seconds flat.

I looked up at my brother, eyes watching the nurse with eyes creased in concentration. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. _Does this mean he cared?_ I frowned around the electric thermometer shoved into my mouth and would've folded my arms if I didn't have a pressure-thing wrapped around it. _If so, my brother had a bad way of showing it_.

"Well," the nurse said, unwrapping the arm cuff and plucking the stick out of my mouth and reading the number. "You _seem_ fine," she eyed me with distrust, lie I had shot _myself _with a spud launcher. "But I was just about to call your parents..."

"No!" Niou and I shouted at the same time. The nurse seemed startled, then adjusted her glasses with a stern look.

"I'm sorry, but your legal guardians are always contacted in severe accidents." Despite my aching limbs and pounding head, I jumped out of the bed and bit the inside of my cheek to hide my grimace.

"See?" I said, spreading my arms out. "I'm fine!" Nurse eyed me skeptically but eventually sighed.

"Alright, alright," she told me in surrender. "But stay here for _at least _another hour before going back to class." I nodded obediently and waited until she disappeared around the corner before turning to look at Anemi, Yukimura, and Niou, who looked guiltily at the floor. Well, at least Anemi and Yukimura did. Niou just smiled like the Cheshire cat.

I sat back down and put my elbows to rest on my knees. Cradling my chin with my hands, I watched them with a rare small smile pumped full of warning and dare. It was a challenge.

_Tell me the truth or I will not hesitate to kill you. Whether with knives or kindness, I'll eventually get you in the end._

Niou chuckled. "I suppose you want to know what happened." I nodded and watched him closely to make sure he was telling the truth. "So after you passed out," Anemi coughed (a-hem, _laughed_) from the background, "I called the nurse and told her you slipped and hit your head then fainted."

"But it was _your _fault," I pointed, my head starting to spin again. Niou snickered and pointed at Anemi and Yukimura.

"They vouched for me. They know how bad my aim is." I closed my eyes again and felt the twinkling notes of carnival music threaten to take me over again. "Plus," Niou said, pulling back the curtains to leave. I kept my eyes closed, but felt him lean closer. "_I'm one prank away from expulsion._" I breathed and Niou left, Anemi's light footsteps soon following.

A time passed. "Why does my brother do this to me?" I heard Yukimura come and sit gently next to me.

"Because he loves you."

I sobbed and let him slide a protective arm around my waist. Resting my head on his white school shirt, Yukimura gently cradled me like a little girl, like how Mom used to. He even smelled like fresh gardenias that he wore like cologne, except so much better. I still remembered the last time I had sat like this with my mother.

"_Mommy!" I cried, tears streaking down the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. Mom put aside her book and let me run into her open arms._

"_Ember, what in the world?" She cradled me in her chair and pulled out little bits of matted dirt and grass out of my blonde hair. "What happened?" I sniffled and sat up a little straighter, then wiggled my eight-year-old self into a more comfortable position in her lap._

"_We were playing tennis and Nickie accidentally hit me in the face when I was playing." I erupted into new tears and let my mother wipe up my face even though I was eight, and more than confident that I could do that myself._

"_Ember," she chided, flicking a particularly large leaf out of my hair. "How many times have I told you to never try Lacing? There are lots of things that pull the ball towards you very strong like a string, but it's too unpredictable for someone so inexperienced like you to use. Perfect your Needlework and then we'll talk." It would've hurt, but Mom was talking out of love. Then, she hugged me closer and I inhaled the smell of dianthus and geraniums emanating from her soft clothes. Pulling me away, she smiled and examined me. _

"_Now," she smiled. "Who's hungry?" _

I wasn't crying anymore. I just watched the folds of the privacy curtains ripple. My head lay on Yukimura's shoulder, arms curled into his chest. I didn't feel uncomfortable in the least about it. Here was a boy who I met, what, an hour ago? And I found myself in his protective embrace. But that was just it; _protective_. I was his teammate's sister. The light cloth shivered like waves and the scent of geraniums filled my senses like a drug.

Yukimura rested his chin thoughtfully on the top of my head.

"Don't you have classes?" I murmured. I felt him smile and slowly let me go. Opening my eyes, I regretted what I had said, but then immediately chastened myself for being so selfish and using his class time to ease my own nostalgia. I stayed sitting as he pulled the curtains. Then, almost like an afterthought, Yukimura turned and smiled at me with his violet eyes.

"Come with Niou to our tennis practice after school," he told me. I blinked. _Niou played tennis? _I tried to think fast. Even if I like Yukimura, I couldn't face Niou so soon.

"I-I'm actually trying the girl's tennis team," I told him, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. Yukimura blinked then smiled again.

"That's great. I hope you do well."

He left and I breathed out a sigh of relief then panic. _Why had I said that? Now I have to go for girls' tennis. _I tried to calm down. Maybe I wouldn't actually go. But I had already _told _him, and besides, I hadn't played tennis in years; maybe I could just quit tomorrow. I physically nodded and grabbed my books, hurriedly rushing to class right before seventh period.

"Geez, new girl," Kirihara whispered, leaning over, eyes glued on the teacher who wrote messily on the board. "Your first day and you're already being pranked by Niou." He gave me a look of something in between amusement and respect. "I can't believe he already brought out the potato gun." I gave him a surprised look. "Rumors," Kirihara shrugged sheepishly.

I nodded like it made sense then eyed the handle sticking out of his backpack. A smile broke across my face. "Hey," I whispered quietly to him. "Can I maybe borrow that this afternoon?" Kirihara looked at his backpack and shrugged.

"Sure." Then, his look became suspicious. "Why?" I smiled at his silliness.

"I need a racket to play tennis." He eyed me a little longer then shrugged, pulling it out of his pack and letting me stow it safely into mine. "I'll keep it safe," I promised. Kirihara nodded and rushed to copy down the notes our teacher had already scribbled out.

* * *

"Hello, ladies!" Coach boomed, her voice oddly loud for her small frame. She wore a black track suit accented with small white and blue stripes. Her long black hair was pulled into a low ponytail. I stood obediently with the other girls in the girls' courts, awaiting further instruction. "This is _tennis _club, everyone. So for all those who think they will change to ballet or soccer when the season is over, let me tell you," Coach's pink eyes focused sternly on everyone. "Tennis will _never _be over."

Even though she was...erm..._older_, Coach still carried the dignified air around her that she had (or so I've heard she had) when she won the Toray Pan Pacific Open. "All of you who have wavering feelings, please clear the courts." Some of the possible six dozen cleared. Apparently, this wasn't the best number, because Coach glared even harder at us newbies in the back. "Also, for those who are hoping to see the _boys' _tennis team, I'm sorry but inter-gender collaboration is for _Regulars _only." More than half of the girls cleared away with a grumble. I looked around in surprise.

_Were the boys' Regulars really this popular?_ _  
_  
Coach smiled in satisfactory at her ability to weed out the uninspired players. "Alright!" She called. "Now, as just a basic line-up to measure skills because this is our first meet, we will now host practice matches!" Some of the girls cheered, moaned, and some had sickened or smug looks on their faces. I was one of the girls who just looked around observing other girls' reactions. In other words, I was one of the newbies.

"Please line up," Coach continued, "and write your name on the designated sheets." She clapped her hands together. "Our previous Regulars and people with previous experience will sign up on this sheet," Coach held up a clipboard, "and those with no or very little previous experience will directly head over to the service line of the opposite court." For the first time so far, Coach smiled. "Alright! Let's get a move on, people!"

I lined up at the first clipboard in between two confident-looking girls.

"So," one said to her friend, bright orange hair cut-short and very preppy-looking, "I hope we don't have to go up against each other, us being previous Regulars." Her friend with big, bright blue eyes laughed and ran a finger through her long, brunette hair.

"Yeah, that'd really stink. But hey, this year there's lots of fresh meat and new talent." Then, to my surprise, the brunette turned to me and grinned. "Hi, I'm Hikari Watanabe. I haven't seen you around before; are you new?" I nodded and smiled back, eager to strike up a conversation.

"I'm Ember Maxwell."

"American?" The orange-haired girl asked with amusement. "I'm Emily Sato, from New York." She started talking in English. "But people just call me Emi." I nodded and admired the two. They were tall and looked really strong.

"So you're Regulars?" They exchanged a glance.

"Well," Emi said thoughtfully. "_Technically _not, but I hope so." Then she smiled again and flicked a strand of her short hair out of her face. "The Ranking Tournament is next week." I gave her a confused look.

"All the second and third years are placed into blocks and sort of battle it out to see who gets one of the eight Regular spots." I blinked.

"Battle in, like, tennis, right?" I asked nervously. They exchanged another look and burst out into laughter. Emi punched my shoulder playfully.

"I think I might like this girl."

* * *

Genuine newbies who had no previous experience were busy having a session of the rules and merits of tennis with Coach. Everyone else had been paired up, and sent off on their way with their partner, their rackets, and a court number. The team captain, a scary raven-haired third-year named Rin Suzuki who sported steel-gray eyes the color of thunder clouds observed matches; she was already team captain again through some unspoken agreement with Coach. I shivered and was happy to see how sunny it was this afternoon. Those without a racket were forced to sit through the lecture about rules and basic ethics with Coach and the newbies. Her number one rule was that to play, you needed your own racket.

I was in Court D block 2 with, to my delight, Hikari. Before we started, however, Emi pulled me aside with a worried look in her eyes.

"Hikari's super sweet," she whispered to me in rapid-speed English. "But she has a bad habit of goading her opponents." Then Emi examined my wide eyes and patted my head fondly like a sister. "Just keep your cool and remember, Hikari has been a Regular for the past year since her second." I nodded and hugged Kirihara's spare racket like a life preserver.

"Self-judge, Ember!" Hikari called from across the net, ball already bouncing in position to serve. Then she stopped, a gentle yet scary (it was scary because it was so gentle) glint in her eye like pity before a murder. She whispered, but I could still hear her voice across the bounce of other tennis balls in the courts around us.

"You might want to step back."

Hikari threw the ball high into the air, gracefully arching her back and following the ball's drop. I thought she looked like a ballerina. Then, the ball connected hard in one fluid, overhand serve.

There's this thing called muscle memory. It's when your body is so used to performing a certain action that you can do it without conscious effort. There's also something call self-defense. Luckily for me, both now combined in that one moment, that one connection of ball on racket, to save my sorry butt.

"Love-fifteen!" Hikari called from the other side of the net. "Nice one, Ember!" I could tell she was trying not to goad me like Emi had warned me she would. I, however, was still in silent surprise at how after all these years, my body still knew what to do. Looking down at my left hand, I found the racket fit my hand almost perfectly; something that couldn't be fixed with a little grip tape adjustment. It felt strange to hold a racket again. It wasn't calming like categorizing plants or just observing flowers, but more...how could you describe it..._satisfying_. My plants were like having a satisfyingly full stomach, but that instant; that one connection when I stroked the wires across the familiar surface of a ball...it was more like quenching a thirst.

And it was scary how much I wanted more.

Hikari served again and I tried a long, stroking shot I used to be famous for, but it bounced off the net back onto my side.

"Deuce."

This time, Hikari served differently, with an underhand. She hit a sharp topspin and I quickly tried to calculate the curve and bounce pattern, but was there a second too late. It flew inches out of reach from the racket face.

"Thirty-fifteen."

I decided to try and take in everything a little more; the racket reach and ideal spot for hitting, Hikari's strokes against the ball, and even the wind that ran through every single little yellow fiber on the tennis ball's surface. Mom had used to tell me that every good tennis player could predict patterns in the opponent and the ball.

She did the same underhand serve and I was in position. The ball curved a few degrees off where I had anticipated, but I still hit a long, stroking counter-spin shot. Hikari was already in position, knees braced and arm drawn back. I watched her eyes, her wrist, and her feet before concluding this was going to be a volley. With a smile, I decided to take a risk with my muscle and brain memory. Before she had even hit, I already backed up, but slow enough to not be conspicuous. Sure enough, a high volley arched gracefully before me, but instead of taking the smash, I brushed a wide top-spin that curved perfectly high over the net but arched tightly, rolling around Hikari's feet without bounce.

I gave a little jump of victory at the fact that I was still able to hit one of my old moves; the Clockwork Circuit. Mom had showed me that one from an old colleague of hers. That was back when tennis was my life; before I discovered the quiet serenity of my plants. But as I gained another point, but for I second I wondered why I even gave up on tennis in the first place.

"Thirty-thirty!" I called for her, Hikari's eyes wide with surprise. Finally, she grinned and yelled over.

"Hey, if I had known you were that good, I would've gone all out!" I smiled and called back.

"I didn't know either; it's been years!"

Hikari won the game, but I would _not _let her break my service game. I smiled and decided to try another one of my old serves. Throwing the ball high into the air, I watched it fall every micrometer until reaching the best point of service. I brought my racket up in slow motion and stroked the ball in a ferocious topspin.

I watched the path with badly-concealed smugness. I wasn't called the _Service Mistress_ for nothing. Hikari stood in position at the baseline to receive, but my Crescent serve banked hard and landed a few feet away from the net. I frowned. I used to be able to do it even sharper. Nonetheless, by the time Hikari ran forward, the ball already bounced twice.

"Love-fifteen!" I called, pulling out another ball from my skirt pocket. But before I could even tap it against the ground, a loud bark of laughter interrupted me.

"You call that tennis? Stick with flowers, sister!" I closed my eyes and turned to look at the fence, behind which Niou stood, casually leaning against the gate and surrounded by the other Regulars and a large mob of screaming girls. He chuckled and opened the gate, strolling over next to Hikari who stood, who peered at me to Niou, then to me to Niou again and again. He shot the brunette a Cheshire-cat smile and plucked the racket out of her hands.

"Mind if I use this?" Niou already pulled out a ball from his pocket without listening for her response. "Thanks."

Hikari stuttered but Emi ran up next to her, wheeling Hikari away while flashing me a worried look.

"Well?" Niou called over the net. He held up the ball out like he was offering it to me. "Shall I serve first?"

I frowned and crossed my arms over my racket. "I will not be goaded into such a thing, Niou," I called back, but got into receiving position anyway. Besides, what was the harm in playing a little tennis with my brother?


End file.
